


Suffocating

by CrownedAnxietyAttack



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Choking, Suicide mention, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrownedAnxietyAttack/pseuds/CrownedAnxietyAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine Stan having overheard Ford calling him “suffocating” (like, Ford brought it up again to Dipper while in the shack).  Later on Stan catches Ford by himself, grabs him by his neck, and slams Ford against the wall.  Ford is squirming and struggling to breathe as Stan grits his teeth and spits, “Is this suffocating, Stanford?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suffocating

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can also be found on my tumblr blog at stan-prompts.

Stan was extremely worried for Mabel. From their little talk before, he knew that she was worried about something other than the summer ending and growing older. Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t fix it. Even with everything Stan had gone through, he sure as hell knew that he couldn’t help anyone with his so called “life experience”. He had yet to see someone go through what he had.

What Mabel needed was her brother, the only person in this world that understood her better than anyone else.

Stan’s heart tightened in his chest as a sad smile dusted his lips and a surge of stale sadness washed through his body. He remembered what it was like to have a brother that just... _knew_.

When he and Stanford were younger, there was no one else in existence or to ever be in existence, that knew Stan better than Stan knew himself. Ford always knew when Stan was going to be upset. What he was going to say. What he was going to do. How he felt. It’s like Ford could read his mind, but stronger than that. As if Stan’s brain rested in Ford’s hands and his brother could see _everything_. But that connection, that loving comfort, it was long gone. Stan had hoped all these years that everything would be the same, even though he had a feeling that it wouldn’t. When Ford returned he only hoped harder. Praying for his wishes to become reality. A feat performed by an agnostic like himself.

Stan still hoped.

He still prayed.

But every day his hope flickered and slowly dimmed. Ford no longer had that connection with Stan. Ford acted like Stan was a complete stranger. Like everything he was before had been sliced and gutted out of him and replaced with something new. Like Ford didn’t remember all the little things about Stan. God did that hurt. But Stan didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place. If Ford decided to forget his brother, to forget his _twin_ , that was up to him.

Stan sighed and pressed his cold drink to his forehead to calm himself down. He didn’t need to get worked up over this. Not now. Mabel was his main concern. Stan turned into the next hall and watched his feet step onto the many cracks in the splintering floorboards. He had meant to replace these floors long ago, but time slipped by and the money had never been raised, so the project was soon forgotten. Just as well. He spent most of his time working on the portal anyways. He even had to buy replacement parts. Most of them weren’t cheap to come by. And Ford must have handmade some of his own parts because he searched everywhere for a replacement but there was nothing like it at any of the stores he checked. None of them had ever seen them before. They were a pain in the ass to replicate. Stan still has the scars.

“It was awful.”

Stan slowed to a stop at the sound of his brother’s voice, surprised to find himself two steps away from Ford’s bedroom door. Who was he talking to? Dipper? Stan moved to press himself against the door, gently touching his ear to the old wood.

“Stan has always been so _suffocating_. He followed me _everywhere_. He never did his own homework. He expected me to laugh at his jokes. He expected me to  _live_ with him _forever_. It was ridiculous! Who would want that? He never gave me any space, Dipper. And I don’t want the same thing to happen to you with Mabel. Clingy siblings are quite possibly the _worst_ distraction you could ever have and I want you to stay focused on your future, on what you could have-.”

Stan jerked himself away from the door. His drink slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor, the soda rushing out of the can and soaking into the old wood floors, dripping through the large cracks. His hands trembled as he shifted back a shaky step. He felt so numb. He had never heard Ford talk about him that before. He knew that Ford was mad at him, God he felt his rage in that punch he received when Ford came back through the portal, but he had no idea he felt this way about him. It was almost... **loveless**.

A devastated squeak fell from Stan’s mouth in realization, quickly throwing a hand over his lips to stop the noise. If that hadn’t been heard, his heart screaming out in pain and tearing itself in two should’ve been loud enough. Stan’s other hand clawed at his chest, dangerously stretching the fabric as he stumbled back. Ford didn’t love him. Ford didn’t care about him. Stan was more than a stranger to Ford, he was a nothing. That connection they had before was more than just severed, it was demolished. Stan honestly couldn’t tell if his body felt like it was on fire or discarded in space. At this point, he’d take both.

A few hour had passed, at least, that’s what Stan had expected. Honestly he’d sat in his chair for what felt like hours without ever looking anywhere besides the black TV screen, so he had no idea how long it’s been since his heart was shredded by his brother’s voice. Heavy footsteps reached his ears and Stan felt himself scowl. Ford appeared at the doorway and stilled upon seeing Stan. Stan heard his brother scoff in disgust and watched as he rolled his eyes and slowly descended down the steps and walked past him to the kitchen. Stan easily stood to his feet and followed after him like a living ghost. Stan stopped in the doorway of the kitchen and watched his brother pour himself a hot cup of coffee, not even registering that Stan was there. Or, more likely, ignoring him. If that thought alone didn’t make his blood boil.

Stan’s hand appeared on Ford’s shoulder in a hard grip and the genius glared at Stan in surprised irritation. “Stanley, what the hell are you-.” Ford was cut short by Stan spinning his brother around, slamming him against the wall and splashing his coffee all over Ford’s sweater. Ford hissed at the burn and pried at his drenched sweater to relieve some of the burn.

“Stanley, what the fuck is wro-?”

Stan shoved Ford again, his brother’s back now flat against the wall as his head hit the hardwood with a loud crack as Ford’s vision blurred momentarily. Ford struggled to see through his blurry vision as a black figure towered over him, calloused fingers wrapping around his sensitive neck. Ford’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to stop his brother, but all that came out was a harshly choked noise. He let go of his sweater and clawed and Stan’s arms as his sight cleared and black tinted the edges. Stan leaned in close and sneered as a growl rumbled in his throat.

“Is _this_ suffocating, Ford?” he hissed.

Stanford’s eyes widened. Stan had heard him.

Stan watched as Ford’s mouth flailed, struggling to let an excuse escape his throat. Stan didn’t want to hear it. “You’re such a goddamn _asshole_. After all this time, after _everything_ I’ve done for you, you call me fucking **_suffocating_**?!” Stan snarled, tightening his hold on Ford’s neck. Drool fell from his brother’s lips and dripped onto his skin, filling Stan with disgust. Ford’s nails scraped at his skin, the first layer being easily torn and leaving rings of lifted flesh in its wake. Ford still struggled to speak as his legs squirmed and his boots slid on the floor, gaining no traction from his wild struggle. Slurred words bubbled from Ford’s throat and Stan scowled. All he could understand was “I wasn’t” and that’s all Stan needed.

“Stop making **_excuses_**!” Stan snarled, letting go of Ford’s neck and smashing his fist into his brother’s face as hard as he could. Ford’s head whipped back as the force knocked him sideways, the back of his head smashing into the window behind him, shattering the glass. Ford yelped in pain as he fell to his knees, one hand cupping the back of his bleeding head and the other clutching his throat. Ford coughed violently, eyes watering at the hard force that rocked through his body as air filled his burning lungs. A dark flash caught the corner of his eye and his eyes widened just as Stan struck him again, his glasses shattering and flying across the room as Ford crumbled to the ground. Stan grabbed his shoulders and Ford panicked, pushing against him and trying to shove Stan away.

“Stanley! Stop! Sto-HGKK!”

Stan hit Ford again, his knuckles now bruised and bleeding from Ford’s jaw. His hands wrapped around Ford’s throat as he straddled his waist. “ _I wasted my life on you!_ You were all I ever had in that hell hole you we called home! I had _no one_ but you!” Stan screamed. Ford’s hand desperately yanked on Stan’s shirt collar as his legs pushed on the floor in resistance. More saliva spilled from his lips as his eyes bugged in fear. Good. Maybe Stan could scare reality into Ford.

“All I’ve ever done is love you! I protected you from bullies! I protected you from our father! I protected you from the real world! I’ve done nothing but care and protect you and you tell me I **_suffocated_ _you_**?! You have no idea what I’ve been through for you!”

Ford’s grip on his shirt began to weaken as his arms trembled and garbled noises fell from his lips. Stan couldn’t see anything. He was so angry that his vision had gone white and pain fuled his actions, tightening his hands further on Ford’s neck. He could feel the muscles flexing in resistance. Ford’s adam’s apple pushing against his palm in an attempt to fight back.

“I haven’t had a full nights sleep in thirty years! I haven’t slept without a nightmare of what happened to you while in that fucking portal ever since you left! I worked _hard_ to keep your damn house and I worked even harder to fix that shitty portal to bring you back! I have _scars_ from that fucking thing! _I taught myself complicated mathematics, physics, chemistry, and calculus to fix that portal!_ And all of that without finishing high school, because Filbrick kicked me out because you threw a fucking fit!” Stan snarled.

Tears burned in Stan’s eyes as his gums ached from gnashing his teeth so hard. His hands ached from clutching Ford’s throat for so long, but he couldn’t stop. He need to make Ford feel pain. He needed Ford to feel _his_ pain. He needed Ford to _wake up_. He needed the old Ford back. He wanted him back so badly. He missed they way Ford used to smile at him. The way he would protect Stan from being completely alone in the world. The way Ford used to be there for him through thick and thin. The way Ford used to love his brother. God Stan wanted that back so much. But there was no way to bring that back. Stan whimpered as tears fell from his eyes, running down his cheeks and splashing onto Ford’s purpling face. Stan struggled to hold in his cries but they soon slipped through in loud wails.

“I came so close to killing myself so many times. I couldn’t live with the thought that I killed you, that I lost you for good. But I never gave up. I never gave up because you were my brother. Because, at one time, you were my only and best friend. I never thought twice about saving you, because I love you. Because I love my brother. And you...you-you just walk over me. You’ve made me to be a villain in your mind. A nuisance. I can’t...I can’t believe you don’t love me anymore, Ford. What happened to us? When did I stop being your brother? Was...was I ever your brother?” Stan asked, his voice cracking as he sobbed.

Ford said nothing, his eyes going cross from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. Stan bit his lip and shut his eyes as he released his brother’s neck. Ford gasped and his back arched off the floor as his stomach expanded with air. He coughed as pained tears fell from the corners of his eyes as he gently brushed his fingertips over his red neck, staring up at Stan in fear. Stan held his eyes closed as he rested his hands on his brother’s chest, feeling a familiar heartbeat under his palm. The thought that when he got to feel his brother’s heartbeat again, to know that he was safe, to know that they were together again, would make him happy. Now he knows it doesn’t. Not when that heart doesn’t love him back.

“Y-you’re fucking crazy,” Ford spat, voice raw from Stan’s strong grip.

Stan opened his eyes and stared down at his brother who glared up at him with nothing but hate and despise. Stan’s fingers tightened on Ford’s wet sweater and smiled pathetically.

“I am.”

Crazy for ever believing that he had a brother.


End file.
